In Jude's Words
by dgharron
Summary: Starting in the near future and having Jude retell the story from his perspective and in his words. This Jude is a little harder and more street wise than the Tv show Jude..definitely not as innocent and with a bit of an edge to him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have never tried anything in the first person before, so please let me know if you think this works or not. Also Jude here is more cynical and hard than in the show..I'm curious as to what people think.**

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When Connor is happy, really happy, he has this cocky way of smiling that somehow makes you feel everything is exactly like it needs to be. I think he got it from his dad- who isn't such a bad guy actually. In fact I'm sure that smile helped the guy close zillions of dollars worth of real estate, because when you see that smile you're sure that not only is this guy OK, but so are you, as is everything you do.

So when the Chairman of the Education Board called Callie's name and she walked to the platform, accepted her diploma from Monte and shook mama's hand as well, I glanced at Connor and he gave me that damn smile.

Between watching Callie graduate and getting that smile from Connor, I felt like someone had just reached through my chest and filled my stomach with the warmest and best chocolate a person could find.

I wasn't surprised that I could feel so happy for Callie, but Connors ability to reach me, no matter how often he does it, has always taken my breath away.

And that is a big deal because for most of the time I was growing up, I was a quiet kid, who read a lot of books and thought a lot of thoughts, but kept mostly to myself. In fact I learned early on that it was useful to not be seen. I was a little lucky that way, it was easy for me to put on a good front, because I was good with words. In fact when I was younger, I would think of words as my friends. I liked them. They were useful.

Now when I think about words, I always think about a poem Callie showed me by a guy named Frost. From what i gather, Frost wasn't a nice guy- but I don't think being an artist requires that you be a good person. Just like you don't need to be a good person to be a good surgeon.

Anyways, the poem's point is that boundaries are necessary. Frost writes 'fences make good neighbors.' Well to me word's were, and still can be, a type of fence. I used them to show people where I stood and where they should stand. It set a boundary. I also used words like a fence, to pretty things up, to hide things and I guess only show people what I wanted them to see. I grew up using words like that. I had to, it was my way of trying to control my world.- to make it better- for me. Otherwise, things could get pretty dicey.

Its a handy skill, sort of like carpentry, building a fence out of words, that is. But a fence is pretty useless unless there is a gate, right. I mean you have to get in and out. Yet somehow I missed that lesson.

Come to think of it I'm not sure if Frost built his fences with gates, like I said he wasn't a very nice guy. I know I never did. But if you don't have a gate, what happens if your world catches on fire, or somebody needs to get inside. It wasn't a big concern to me at first. I figured, if it was hard to get in, then the only people who would bother would be people who really cared and meant well. I still sort of think that's true, but why I am bothering with this story is that it turns out that gates are pretty useful. Unfortunately growing up in foster care sometimes you miss out on crucial things. In my case I learned early to keep people out and only very slowly how to let people in. So take that Mr. Frost, fences may make good neighbors, but only if they have a gate.

Now, I don't think I could have done this whole fence thing without Callie. You see, throughout our long foster career she was sort of like the scouts or the rangers of an army, running around like mad, sussing out any danger conducting lightning offensive strikes, keeping people off balance. I would just sort of hang back and sit on the fence and observe the mayhem she'd created. And yeah, occasionally I'd lob a few zingers from my well fortified position. What we did wasn't without its dangers, but its not like two kids without money or parents have a lot of good choices. She took it in the neck sometimes, and I felt bad, but its what she knew how to do, just like building fences is what I knew best. We both survived as best we could and as a far as brother sister acts go, it wasn't half bad. I think all told we did better than most.

Oh yeah, I have to mention this also, she was the best PR man the world has seen since PT Barnum- at least as far as promoting my interests. You see Callie and I are both really observant, partly from necessity. Except with Callie, what she sees goes straight to her feelings. So she can suss out good or bad, quicker than anybody and she moves like a bat using sonar when she has too. It is all feelings driven. and pretty much immediate. I, however, see things and they bounce around in my head and I don't let it until I have words that say what I need them to say. This always amazed Callie, she thought of it like some special or magical quality.

The admiration is mutual really, I'm awestruck at her ability to act immediately on feelings. I think its why she is a good photographer. She sees, she feels, she clicks- boom from her heart to yours. Me I see, and wait and wait and wait, and then something pops out. If it's useful I say it, if not, I just file it away.

So to Callie, I was this amazing creature who put into words things she felt and whom she needed to protect, because thinking things through isn't usually the best way to win a street fight. And who was I too argue? She's my older sister, and I had no parents.

Things sort of worked OK, for a while, well, not really, but we could both pretend that it was OK, until we got to Johnson's in San Ysidro, that's when everything started to fall apart.

You see Callie was now 15 and she had nice curves and a great smile, which is all some guys want right? Your not suppose to talk that way about your sister, but I don't think anyone would argue the point with me, and Callie is pretty direct so I don't think she would mind. I guess a better way to say it is that she had become a woman, even if she still was a kid.

For most of our lives we had both mostly been ignored, so I guess she enjoyed it when the attention started, at least for a half minute or so. Unfortunately, she quickly found out why some societies require bur quas —not that I think it would have helped. By the time we got to Johnson's, well, the gig was up. Callie had taken a couple of hard hits- the extent of which, given I was about 11 at the time, I didn't fully understand. What I did know is that she was hurting and my outer ring of defense might be on the way down. I also had seen this Johnson guy with his wife and he was a nasty piece of work. The bad news really started when the wife left, not that she was a saint, or protected us; she was bitter and had a vile potty mouth, but after she left, Johnson focused his rage on Callie. So I wanted out of there. I had a sense that Callie was close to a real breaking point, and i figured if Callie could get us kicked out of the Olmstead's then I could get us out of Johnson's.

You see Callie's story is that the guy went after me because I was wearing his wife's dress and then she went after him, and he, being the gentleman he was, returned the favor and went after her, Sort of like a vicious game of ping pong, back and forth, back and forth. At some point she got tired of the game picked up a bat and redecorated his car. Actually there is more to it than that, and it is sort of important.


	2. Chapter 2

I was happy to leave the Olmstead's, but any smile on my face faded as soon as I saw the little bread box shack in San Ysidro that was to be our new home. A flimsy chain link fence separated the house from its neighbors and it had no landscaping to speak of. The yard surrounding the house was more dirt than grass. The only thing missing from the picture was a nervous pit bull straining against a chain.

Bill got out of the car and then went up a head of us to ring the door bell, leaving us to gather up our stuff. Every thing i owned was in a large plastic bag, the kind that most people use for grass clipping and then leave in the street for the yard waste guys to haul off. Callie had her big blue athletic bag. We tottered-up to the door with our gear. One part foster kids, two parts refugees.

"What do ya want." We heard a gravely female voice shouting, muffled by the door. Not even a hello or who is it. Just some lazy sole concerned that the world was going to ask something from them, or, god forbid, ask them to maybe do or give something.

When I heard the voice, I glanced at Callie, she was looking at me and she started to go into the full mom mode, pulling me close with one arm and telling me that being together is all that matters. She had been sad and quiet for days at the Olmstead's, but something about seeing the place switched her into full survival mode and she was suddenly 100% present.

"It's Bill with DSS, Mrs. Johnson," he said.

The Woman opened the door. She was in her 40's with a hard face that too much make-up, cigarettes and alcohol had made sort of puffy and pallid. She was petite and energetic, hostile actually, and I could imagine her easily cutting through a crowd at a steak house lounge carrying a tray loaded with change and a round of drinks and then wheeling off to serve some other guys. She looked at us, took a drag on a cigarette, gave a harrumph and said, "I'm getting ready for work, Bob should be back in a bit, why-doncha wait in the living room for him."

So we sat, like we were in the principal's office, quiet, guarded, waiting for Bob-or Bobo, which quickly became Callie and I's nickname for him.

And in he walked. His shirt tale out of his pants, a big belly hanging over baggy and wrinkled pants. He saw Bill and sat in a recliner.

"Hi Bob we got all your forms signed thanks for that. I got to run but everything should be straight forward, Callie's enrolled at the San Ysidro High, and Jude, here is at Kennedy Middle over on Blake. There in good standing and there is no disciplinary issues."

He turned to us,

"Kids, Bob's fostered three sibling pairs over the years so your in good hands." and just like that he left. It felt like he couldn't get out of there quick enough.

"Good to hear you like school, My dad use to beat me to get me to go," Was Bob's first words to us. At that I glanced over at Callie, trying to see if she sensed a threat or not.

"We got a list of chores in the kitchen. Some need to be done before, some after dinner," He continued.

He looked at Callie, "You got a job," Callie just shook her head.

"Too bad, maybe you can try babysitting with some of the neighbors. We got stuff in the pantry for lunches. And dinners at 6:00, don't be late for dinner, cause we don't wait around."

He wasn't the warmest dude, you could hope for, but it seemed OK.

He showed us our rooms, we had two different rooms which, now that I was 12, was a state requirement. After I put my stuff away I walked into Callie's room.

"Hey Jude, you can sleep with me tonight, don't worry, right,"

"I probably will." I said, "Thanks.

"What-do you think," I whispered.

Callie started to say something and then her eyes widened, as we heard Linda yelling.

"Where is my fuck'n money, all my fucken tip money from last week,"

"Must of been the kids."

We looked at each other.

"You dick! They were sitting there with the guy from DSS. You seriously expect me to believe one of them sneaked out under the guys nose and went into my room and got it. Sure Bob,"

"Probably, while you were in the shower."

"I was right fucking here the whole time, I want my money."

"Hey Linda, C'mon."

And we heard a slap.

"Ow, what the fuck, why did you do that,"

"I want my money."

Things went quiet. We could only imagine what was going on. And then,

"Hey baby I'm sorry, I sorry about the money, I should have told you." He said in a voice somewhere between a plead and a whine. " I needed the money to put gas in my car. I'll pay you back, my next check."

"Ya right," She said .

We heard the sound of high heels sparking off a wooden floor and the door slamming.

We looked at each other.

"If either of them ever hit you, you got to let me know Jude," She said, whispering.

"I'm serious Jude," she said.

"I can take care of myself Callie," trying to assure her.

She looked at me again worried like a mom, and I said a quick, "I will." If only to placate her, but really thinking she had her own battles to fight and didn't need mine..

"You have any food," Callie said softly to me.

Yeah, I managed to take some stuff from the Olmstead's.

"I got some stuff too, Let's not go out there."

"I don't have much of an appetite," I said. Which was true, between the ugly house and the ugly people. My stomach felt like crap.

I must have sighed, cause she gave me this sad, sad look.

"Jude I'm so sorry I messed-up with the Olmsteads."

"They were jerks Callie. And Liam was a creep, he was nice to me when you were there, but when you weren't around, he could be, I don't know ...mean."

"You got to tell me that stuff, Jude. If I don't know, I can't do anything."

I looked at her and raised my eyebrows, because deep down we both knew she had enough trouble of her own.

Her face reddened, and I regretted even getting close to the conversation. God, I wished I was one of those tough guys that had a poker face that never revealed anything. Callie wanted so much to protect me and felt bad whenever she couldn't, but more and more that just wasn't possible. In fact in some ways I was starting to try and protect her.

"Jude I would have listened to you, I liked him, but you're first, always."

"Well we're here now,"

And we were. In fact ,we stayed there, in Callie's room the rest of the evening, not daring to go out, except quickly to use the bathroom. And Bobo, the tip thief, didn't bother about dinner. 6 pm came, and 6 pm went. There was no dinner, but, on the plus side, there were no chores. There was only the sound of the TV in the living room, and occasionally a beer can spritzing open.

So, our welcome dinner, was a block of cheese, some chips and a warm cherry coke to wash it down.

Around 11 Callie went out to ask for some blankets to make-up the bed. I didn't hear the conversation, but she came back with the blankets and a sneer on her face.

"I told, Bobo," she said, spitting the words out like they tasted bad, "that you and I were going to sleep in the same room tonight."

"Oh."

"He 's an Ass."

"Why, what did he say?"

"Don't worry about it Jude."

"You got to tell me this stuff Callie, if I don't know , I can't do anything about it." I said teasing her with her own words

"You can be such a wise ass she said to me," laughing. And for a moment, it was just me and her together, standing against the world, a team and a good one at that.

"Un huh, but what did he say?"

"Stuff a guy shouldn't say to a girl, that's all Jude," she said ruffling my hair, trying to play it off.

I didn't ask further, I didn't have too. I knew that sooner or later I 'd learn all about it. For the night, at least, I had her, my big sister, and she had me.

I slept pretty well and In the morning, at 7 , Callie woke me and said, " Jude it's time."

We walked into the kitchen together, holding our breath, not knowing what to expect.

Bobo was there. He looked at Callie and said, "You know we gave you guys two rooms for a reason."

Neither of said anything. Callie playing it cool just said "Where is the bread for lunches."

"Did you hear what I said," he said, not really angry, sort of smirking and laughing at us.

"Well we need separate rooms, but we grew-up sleeping together, so it helps when you move to a new place."

"I don't know what you and your fagoty brother have going on, but don't push it, right."

I was still hoping to salvage something. So I piped up, "Where is the list of chores, Bob," hoping he would at least see that as a good.

"Where's the list of chores, Bob," he mimicked in a sing song voice, and sneered at me.

We both just stood there quietly looking at him. I had gone quiet deep into myself, trying not to be there, I guess hiding behind my own fences. I half expected Callie to challenge him, but I was hoping it wouldn't be here today.

Bob eyed us, like he was examining a science experiment gone bad. Even sitting down he was intimidating. He probably weighed more than both Callie and I put together.

"You need to get your asses off to school." He said nonchalantly.

Neither of said anything at first, then Callie took a breath and said.

"How can we get in after school." Real cool and mater of fact, like nothing had happened. But I knew her well enough to know that she was keeping score.

"Linda's here in the afternoon, I usually get home around 4. You're not to be in the house, if one of us aren't here."

"You kids know the buses and are able to get to school on your own, that is what Bill thought"

"Yeah, Bill gave us the information and some bus passes."

The rest of the morning was uneventful, Callie made us both cheese sandwiches and we had cheese and bread for breakfast too. Bob didn't say anything else to us. He even nodded, good-bye as we left. Bob was like that, he'd switch it on and off, it kept you off balance.

Going out the door, Callie wrapped her arm around my shoulder. "That didn't go too bad."

"Why do people act like that Callie," I asked, feeling this awful feeling in my stomach.

"He's probably just hung over Jude."

"Great."

And so we headed off, with smiles on our face, eager to have our head crammed with knowledge, just filled with delight at what our day may bring. And of course,really looking forward to coming home in the evening.

 **A/N i'm trying to lead up to the event that sent Callie to Juvie..it's taking longer than i thought it would, not sure if it is holding people's interest and whether the build-up is interesting**


End file.
